<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Cryptid Thing by ArtworkerGEMS</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533344">Cryptid Thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtworkerGEMS/pseuds/ArtworkerGEMS'>ArtworkerGEMS</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Creepypasta - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Horror, Creepy, Creepypasta, Erotica, F/M, Horror, Lactation, Large Breasts, Smut, Uncanny Valley, Unsettling, cryptid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:21:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtworkerGEMS/pseuds/ArtworkerGEMS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, I saw a strange creature in the woods. I saw it again sometime later, and I got curious. I did not expect what happened after that.</p>
<p> I wrote this because I got very inspired by a set of illustrations done by Ciircuit, an interestingly meme-y artist I stumbled upon on Twitter. I figured I'd write the story in the first person, somewhat like a creepy-pasta, and I hope it turned out well. Let me know what you think!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cryptid Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I took a detour. Instead of going along the tier three road, as I usually did, I decided to curve off into the tier one road. Normally, that would not have meant anything, but tonight it ended up meaning more than I had anticipated it would.</p>
<p> I live on the very outskirts of the city. The building, where my apartment is located, has two tier one roads leading up to it, and, across one of those roads - a forest. Usually, I don't really care about it, even though folks tell me that's better than the small, or large, parks they get to wander about in the city proper. I'm not all over that life, so it's just a bit of scenery for me.</p>
<p> I work on the third shift, which means I always get home after midnight, which doesn't bother me, as I'm not afraid of the dark. On top of that, the government has been immaculate in the upkeep of everything, in recent years, so the street lights illuminate the roads nicely. But, while walking down the road, literally treading through the middle of it, as there were no people using personal vehicles at that hour, I found myself looking at the forest.</p>
<p> I don't know why, as I said, I don't usually do it, but it might've been my lack of entertainment, or me being sleepy, but I looked at the woods. At night, the woods are eerie. Their branches are crooked, and when the darkness drapes over them it makes them appear even more malicious than usual. As if the fabric of a person's torn clothes is hanging off of them.</p>
<p> It's associated with the primal fear of humanity… I think. Being scared of the dark, being spooked by stuff you don't know for sure. That's been with folks ever since prehistoric times, and I find it interesting.</p>
<p> I ended up thinking about why that was, and I sound up wandering off into thoughts concerning existence and nonexistence, how not knowing what's behind the door preys upon the fear of death, or, rather, the fear of nonexistence. So engrossed I was in my thoughts, I almost glossed over the pale frame, peeking from beyond a trunk.</p>
<p> But I didn't miss it. In fact, I caught it, not literally, and halted. It was… a frame, the frame of a human. It seemed to be a human, at least. It was not very close by - I'd wager there were a good twenty meters between us - but it appeared weirdly prevalent, as if it had been outlined, in a sense.</p>
<p> A thin frame, very scrawny, indicative of anorexia or starvation. I could clearly make out the shape of bones. That, by itself, was another strangeness - the form was naked. It was late autumn, and it was less than ten degrees Celsius, or somewhere around that range. I was wearing my coat, and I thought it was too chilly to just rock a simple shirt or sweater, let alone go around bare chested.</p>
<p> That human form - because it had legs, arms, a head… Well, it did not quite have a head. Actually, it did, but it seemed off. As if it was too far away from the body, and it was covered in red. Might've been blood. So was the area around her shoulders and neck.</p>
<p> Oh, yeah, it was a woman. I think it was a woman, because there was nothing dangling between its legs, and there was a pair of, honestly, massive boobs sagging off its chest. But, still, that didn't startle me all that much. If anything, I pondered how was it that the thing wasn't cold?</p>
<p> Before anything could be done on my part - merely a few seconds had passed - the creature slinked behind the trunk and did not show up again. As I said, I was sleepy, so I just thought to myself I would have shrugged my shoulders otherwise, and resumed my walk back home. <br/> A few days passed... That's an understatement, almost a month passed, actually, and yet the memory of that autumn night's encounter had not left my mind.</p>
<p> At first, I had figured I needed to resume my meetings with a psychiatrist, but, seeing as I'd stopped them, I did not feel like seeing a weirdly well endowed woman-creature-thing in the woods was cause to do that.</p>
<p> I then considered I should resume my medication, but I had stopped that because of a recommendation by both my psychiatrist and my GP, so I figured seeing a fellow suffering from early signs of frostbite was not a reason to start pumping myself full of drugs again.</p>
<p> That then led me to thinking what was it that I had seen, why was it that I had seen it, and why had I reacted so nonchalantly. To the last question, I answered easily - it's always like that, don't stress about it.</p>
<p> To the second and first questions, however, I did not have a good answer. It could have been that it was a figment of my imagination and I had seen it because I was crazy. It could've been that it was a real creature and I had seen it because I had looked its way. Honestly, there were at least two solutions.</p>
<p> I even checked for urban legends in my area and, would you believe it, there was nothing. People were actually not seeing weird things, because the conditions of living had improved as drastically as they had, ever since the new party came into power, and there were no bad or scary things happening to anybody. Or, at least, no one was making things up.</p>
<p> Holiday season struck, and folks started walking about, being happy and spending more time together or at home. Me, I did not really get a change to my schedule. I kept working third shifts, waddled through the snow, and that was that.</p>
<p> Though, a few days before Christmas Eve, I saw the creature again. This time, I was going down the usual route - along the third tier road, well lit, everything nice and proper. The benches, dotting the pedestrian zone, were facing outward towards the forest, so that folks could look at the trees, now covered in snow, and marble at their beauty.</p>
<p> Well, there was a couple, sitting on one of the benches, holding hands, embracing, whispering romantic things into each other's ears, that sort of thing. They were on the other side of the road, but I noticed them - they weren't being loud, but when everything is dead silent, even whispers are audible.</p>
<p> I just looked at them, shook my head, and looked away, back to the path leading forward, and then, with my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of red. And, fair enough, there it was, the pale, scrawny, huge fitted woman-thing.</p>
<p> It stood, holding onto the trunk of a tree, almost like a timid maiden does as she peeks at something she ought not to - I've seen movies - and I could tell what it was looking at. The couple.</p>
<p> Now, I didn't know why the creature was looking at them - as I wouldn't have - but it was. In fact, it seemed to be so focused, it remained visible to me for longer than last time. I got a good look at it - that sickly, deathly weak frame, the scrawny, bony limbs, the bloodied neck and shoulders.</p>
<p> It was a stump. Well, it looked like a stump, but it had the bone protruding from it, as if the creature's head had been ripped off. I couldn't know for certain, but then again, its head was right there… Floating by its body, coated in a miasma of thick blood, in appearance skinned clean and left with very little living tissue on it. </p>
<p> That ought to have been a haunting sight, but I found it weird how the creature's breasts were as big and meaty as they were when it was that scrawny and sickly in appearance. They seemed really nice and supple, to be fair, and their big nipples were stiff, probably from the cold. I couldn't help but get a better look, as good as I could get. She didn't have a rump, well, almost had none - it was as scrawny as I'd expect from a person dying of starvation - but she did have a nice pussy.</p>
<p> Shortly after taking note of that, the creature noticed me staring - I think - and slid off behind the trunk, disappearing in the forest. I threw a glance at the couple, who were still doing lovey dovey things, with no indication that they had seen anything weird, and then I, too, went my way. <br/> Time passed, and, having gotten a better look at the thing, I felt somewhat bad for it.</p>
<p> I don’t exactly know how come I had ended up having that sense of pity overwhelm me, but it had slowly seeped into my being, and, whenever I had the opportunity to think about things, I would end up thinking about that thing. It might’ve been because of the fact that it appeared to be cold. It might be because it seemed to be hungry. It could’ve been because of the fact it was looking at that couple, on the bench, and I can’t help but think there was a measure of longing in its gaze…</p>
<p> Though, those are all theories. Explanations I came up with to attempt to rationalize why was I thinking about that creature. I figured it might be because I was confused beyond reason - how come a thing like that could even exist? Its head was not attached to its body. Technically, it did not have a head. Well, it did, but how could I know if that was its head? Could have been that another person, or creature, had ended up beheaded, and then that thing had taken the skull and now just… Had it float around.</p>
<p> I had not really thought about that, and that is why my reasoning was so poor. But I did spend time thinking about the thing. I spent time looking up stuff - urban legends, if there were any, and no longer just local stuff - anything. There were a lot of those, but they seemed to have aged, and very few people appeared to actually be paying much attention to them. The forums were not really popular, by the looks of things.</p>
<p> All my research, which wasn’t at all involved, actually, ended up yielding no results. Only thing I came up with, through that, was a means of calling the creature. A Cryptid.</p>
<p> Well, that was all well and good, but having figured out how to call it was not helping my case. Not at all. On my walks back home, from work, I felt the urge, more and more frequently, to just go along the tier one road. Why? Well, because I could encounter the Cryptid again. But why?</p>
<p> I wasn’t particularly lonely, to be fair. I had no need of anything - everything I could have wanted was within my grasp, I could have it - so it wasn’t out of a need for excitement or companionship or anything like that. I think I was just really curious, but, the more I thought about it, the more evident it became that something had really stricken me as odd.</p>
<p> It might be why I was looking for a reasonable explanation, too, because that was a very lacking in reason answer to the question. I had liked the fact it had big breasts. Not just big, to be fair - huge. It was a very prevalent thing that popped up in my head whenever I thought about the Cryptid. Its slender form, accompanied by those massive juggs.</p>
<p> Usually, I’m not interested in that kind of activity. I’ve had sex, multiple times, with different women. Some, I paid, others - I didn’t. I wasn’t a maniac on that topic - hell, I rarely even mastrubated - once or twice a week. And yet that was the most prevalent thing. That weird creature had such a colossal set of tits that I just couldn’t get it out of my head. The fact that it had no head attached to its body paled in comparison.</p>
<p> Around a week and a half passed, in total, since the last time I’d seen it, when I encountered it again. I had taken a day off - because I felt like it - and was walking about the forests near my apartment. In part due to the fact that I wanted to see if I could find the Cryptid, in part because I had been feeling as if I wasn’t moving enough.</p>
<p> The walk was relatively pleasant. It was cold, early January and all, but I had my coat on, and that was more than enough to keep me warm. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I went ahead and spent the entire day roaming about, looking for the Cryptid. Now, I should have considered that, from previous encounters, it was more likely to show up at night, when it was dark. Instead, I guess I had my thoughts focused on other things, maybe its breasts, and just went on that walk either way.</p>
<p> Fortunately for me, when the Sun rolled over and fell off the horizon, and I was walking back home, indifferent with the way things had turned out, I saw it. I didn’t know exactly where I was, at the time, but, as it turned out, I was walking along a path that ran parallel to the third tier road, and I spotted the Cryptid standing by a tree, partially hiding behind it, looking at something. I figure it might have been another person walking, or a car driving past, or even a couple, like last time.</p>
<p> It was not looking at me - in fact, it was looking in a direction that really limited its options of seeing me. I’d wager it could have seen me with its peripheral vision, if it had not been so engrossed in staring at whatever it was that it was staring at, but it didn’t see me.</p>
<p> I stopped moving for a bit, studying it. It was in the same shape as last time. Pale, incredibly scrawny, though I noticed some things I had not. Its hands - as bony as the rest of it - seemed very, very badly wounded. So much so, in fact, that her fingers were covered in blood and appeared as if they had no skin on them - only muscle tissue and bones underneath.</p>
<p> I got closer - my feet were making those crunching sounds that snow makes as you walk over it - but that, somehow, did not alert the Cryptid either. I stopped moving again when I had more than halved the distance between myself and the creature. From that close I could see far more of its body. My eyes were drawn to its breasts, inexplicably, yet expectedly. They seemed truly heavy, yet soft and pleasant to the touch. Not only that, but they ended with bright red nipples, big and erect, due to the cold, most likely, leaking a white substance. Milk, probably.</p>
<p>“Hey.” I called out, and the Cryptid, startled by my voice, turned around and regarded me. Well, as appropriately as a creature with no attached head could. At first, its body faced me, and then its floating, skull-like head, that was more reminiscent of a skull with bloodied pieces of flesh attached to it, peered at me. The bloodshot eyes in the sockets were looking in different directions, and neither was targeting me, but I thought the creature, itself, was looking at me.</p>
<p> The Cryptid looked at me, and I looked at it. I did not like looking at its face, so I moved my gaze to its body. Its breasts were far more pleasant to behold.</p>
<p> We just stood there for a while, looking at one another. The Cryptid did not do anything, other than look at me, and I did nothing else but look at it.</p>
<p> A weird feeling took over me, but the whole situation was weird, too, so I didn’t really care about it.</p>
<p>“Hey.” It spoke. That had been unexpected. Its voice was strange, as was fitting. Simultaneously, it originated from the head, and yet seemed to be going into the head, past me, not towards me. It was quiet, almost inaudible, and yet it was clear. It echoed and reverberated, though as if it was somewhere very far away, beyond a wall and submerged in water. It was rough and unpleasant,  but it seemed strangely gentle, feminine, even.</p>
<p> After greeting me back, it did not say anything else for a moment. Neither did I. I don’t know why I remained silent. I guess I just liked looking at the Cryptid. It… Well, maybe it was more appropriate to say she, now. After all, she had a womanhood, and breasts, and her voice sounded feminine.</p>
<p>“You’re not scared of me.” She observed, as if that was something absolutely incredible. Thinking about it, a reaction like mine, or lack thereof, might have been a rarity.</p>
<p>“No, I’m not.” I confirmed. She then did something a little unexpected. Her arms rose, and her hands were close enough to each other, to the point where she could touch her fingers. And she twiddled her thumbs in a very shy, timid manner.</p>
<p>"You're not violently repulsed by the sight of my huge milk tanks?" She inquired, and that struck me as a little odd. Interesting thing to focus on, but, then again, it was what I was focusing on as well. I shook my head.</p>
<p>"No, I'm not." I answered, noticing that I had repeated myself. Not that I needed to say it in a different manner, actually, but it just seemed weird how I did not need to use different words. Upon hearing my statement, she clasped her hands together, which had the effect of pushing her breasts in a manner that made their volume and suppleness quite evident, and, I think - I can't be certain - I think she squealed.</p>
<p>"That's really kind of you!--" She exclaimed and her head tilted to the side. "--Say, do you like milk?"</p>
<p> What an odd thing to ask, I thought to myself. I could not find a correlation between our previous bit of conversation and that question of hers. I nodded, though.</p>
<p>"I guess I do. What about you?" I fired back at her. I don't know why I asked her the same thing she asked me, but it felt like the right move to make.</p>
<p>"I do like milk. It's what I eat… Mostly." Her voice's strangeness was overwhelming, but it appeared as if she was mumbling at this point. It didn’t faze me.</p>
<p>“Why did you ask?” I probed, and she appeared startled, for a moment. It was weird how that happened with her - her head would bounce up, and then slowly come down, while her body would shudder for an instant, leaving a fantastic jiggle in her breasts. I liked that.</p>
<p>“Well, I thought-- only if you're okay with it-- you could come to my place and…" She trailed off and that uncertainty in her voice, which I had assumed was timidity, turned out to have been a means of conveying that she was very shy.</p>
<p> She looked interesting. Her timidity was an indication that there was, probably, no danger involved. It could have been an act, but I was not worried about that. If I were to be taking things into account, it was her huge breasts and her leaky nipples.</p>
<p>"Sure. Lead the way." I agreed to her unfinished offer and walked even closer to her. She reacted in a manner that should have been expected by me, but it just seemed so unusual for a creature with such an appearance to be so shy. She almost jumped back, her arms held before her chest, and her gaze averted from me.</p>
<p> We traveled through the first in silence. She was probably too excited, or worried not to say the wrong thing, and thus not a word came of her. I, on the other hand, am not that talkative, and, knowing what she had suggested, I figured chatting it up might have made her change her mind.</p>
<p> The only sound I heard as we threaded through the snow was that of my boots making it crunch. The Cryptid thing's footfalls were silent, and she left no traces - at least, not ones I could see in the twilight. A few times I thought I heard her breathing, but it was so faint and distant, even though she was at an arm's reach away from me, that I figured it was not actually her.</p>
<p> She led me quite deep in the forest. I had never ventured that far in, especially not while the level of illumination kept getting lower and lower, but I also did not have a companion like the one I currently had.</p>
<p> Finally, just as everything was going dark, and I could barely make anything out, we reached our destination. It was an old, pseudo abandoned bunker. After all, someone lived within, so it was not exclusively vacant.</p>
<p> She went down the ladder first - there was no hatch - and, while observing her descend, I wondered how did she make do in here. Did she eat rodents or bugs, whatever she could find? Did she eat at all? Why were her mammaries so plump, while the rest of her was so scrawny?</p>
<p> I went down after her, taking note of the fact that, even though the metal ladder seemed to be rusted all over, there was a section on each step, that was relatively smoothened out - as if it had been kept in reasonably good condition. How long had she lived here, I pondered as she led me into the dark bunker.</p>
<p> I pulled out my phone and turned on the flash - I needed to see, after all - and I had a look at the place. Although abandoned, it was nowhere near as horribly unkempt as other abandoned constructions I had seen. There was lots of street art, and then some not-so-artistic graffiti, all over the walls, there was a lot of trash - which, surprisingly, did not smell as bad as some bins did - and there were sections that were completely free of any clutter.</p>
<p> Frankly, all the junk was pushed to the corners of the chambers we walked through, and it became less and less prominent the further in we walked. The bunker was not incredibly big, but it had a pair of corridors connected by a large middle chamber, and, by the looks of it, my hostess dwelled at the furthest corner of the construction.</p>
<p> To my surprise, there was a door - well, a bit of door, ripped off its hinges and really beaten and bruised by the weather, but a door nonetheless, made of wood - blocking the exit of the corridor. She took hold of it and pushed it to the side, sliding it an unpleasant sound, as her domicile was revealed.</p>
<p> That last room was not much different from the others, covered in scrawls and wriggles, all over the walls. There was no trash anywhere, though. A metal pole, one of the old ones, solid and heavy, rested against the corner closest to the entrance. A stack of blankets, each of them different in color, wholeness and thickness, was splayed out in the furthest corner. There was a small ditch, I noticed, beneath the door. It was not there by design - maybe she had made it for herself. After all, when it rained, she might have had issues with the water.</p>
<p>"Well… welcome." She mumbled, standing in the center of the room, her hands behind her back, body slightly bent forward.</p>
<p> It was cold. Very cold. After all, there was snow outside. Sub-zero temperatures, which meant that water would slowly freeze. It also applied to liquids that contained water. Though, even if that was so, her nipples were still leaking that white substance, and there were no signs of frosting.</p>
<p>"What exactly did you have in mind?" I asked, feeling how warm I was in my coat, and yet also feeling quite cold, as I looked at her, naked and frail in appearance, standing in front of me, in a pose that indicated how exposed she was. I think I liked that.</p>
<p>"Well…--" She stammered, looking to the side, rubbing her hands and legs against one another, her whole body moving. Her breasts jiggled enticingly. "--You know… You could help m-- Milk me…" The Cryptid spoke and straightened her back, pushing her chest out.</p>
<p> Her bountiful bosom spilled over the sides of her torso, and those large mounds of flesh sagged with a weight so appealing that I found myself ready to oblige.</p>
<p>"Alright. Do you have anywhere to store it or do you just spray it around?" I asked as I walked closer to her. She was neither shorter nor taller than me. If her head was attached, she might have towered over me by a few inches, but, as it was, I was standing directly in front of her, my eyes even with her collarbone.</p>
<p>"Oh, uhm, no, just…--" She gulped, as if gathering the courage to say whatever it was she wanted to. "--Just drink it." I was a tad surprised by that, but I did not see anything but a great opportunity.</p>
<p>"Okay." I replied, put my phone in my pocket - the low quality of the fabric made sure it still threw out some measure of light - and raised my hands. No gloves covered my fingers, so when my skin made contact with her boob flesh, it was surprisingly pleasant. My hands had been warm in my pockets, and that warmth was such a contrast to the coolness of her skin that I was left dumbfounded. And, even though her skin was cool, it was not cold - its temperature was, probably, a few degrees Celsius lower than that of mine.</p>
<p> She gasped, quietly, as my digits sank into the soft flesh of her breasts. They were supple and malleable, as if they were pillows made of the finest geese feathers, and yet they had a firmness, a fleshy feeling to them that was beyond any man-made object. I pushed them up, bringing them close together, and squeezed, gently, yet that little pressure was enough to send her reddened nipples into a frenzy of squirting her milk.</p>
<p> The liquid sprayed over my chest and arms, though I was not concerned about that - not at all. She was panting and gasping, as though this felt really good for her. In truth, I, myself, was breathing heavily, as I sensed myself rubbing against the fabric of my pants.</p>
<p> I gulped, slightly lowered myself, so that my mouth was even with her nipples, and licked my lips in anticipation. She moaned even before I had enrwaped her cherry-like nub, and, when she did, I felt my own excitement growing. At first, I simply squeezed with just my lips, feeling the lukewarm, closer to cool than warm, liquid seeping out of her nipple and into my mouth. It was a slow dribble, but it was really erotic, in a strange, perverse manner.</p>
<p> I sucked in, feeling my cheeks hollow out, feeling how her nipple almost doubled in length as the vacuum created in my mouth applied enough pressure to make the milk start gushing out of her. Her moan came again, and it was long and drawn out, as if this felt incredibly unique and unbelievably pleasurable.</p>
<p> I pulled back, letting the tip of her breast leave my mouth, which created a loud, lewd pop. Gasping for breath, I realized I felt really hot. So hot, in fact, that I was sweating. There was a great need brewing within me, and I could not rationally explain to myself why. I only knew that it was because of what was happening at the moment.</p>
<p>"Do you like it?" She muttered, her hands still behind her back, and her chest pushed forward, so as to accentuate her great endowment. She sounded shy, and her voice was filled with trepidation, as if the answer was so important to her it dwarfed everything else. Instead of saying it aloud, I plunged back towards her bosom and wrapped my lips around her other nipple.</p>
<p> This time, I did not just suckle, though I would have liked that, by itself. I used my tongue to flick at the bright red nub, the sensation of that strangely sweet, rich in flavor milk rubbing against the taste buds in my mouth left me hungry for more. She moaned and gasped, shifting about as I kept softly pushing her breasts up, down and against one another.</p>
<p> It was enchanting. And not in a magical way, at least, not that I knew of, but a very carnal, physical, explicable manner. Her moans, as harrowing and grating on the ear as they were, filled the bunker with an almost tangible sense of desire.</p>
<p> I gulped down more and more of her milk, and it did not stop coming, so I kept going at it. I alternated between her breasts, left, right, left, right, with small intervals to breathe in between each. I do not know why I did not use my nose, but, I think, it was because it made me break away, if only for a moment, just so I could be separated from that set of magnificent mammaries.</p>
<p> Her arms finally shot up and grabbed me by the shoulders, but only that  she gripped tightly, but the force with which she did was not crushingly great. It was soft, in a sense - just enough to indicate to me that she felt good. I gently nibbled on her nipples, and she would gasp, and her body would shudder momentarily. I did not feel it happen, but slowly the coolness in her flesh dissipated as it warmed up, maybe as a result of my ministrations, maybe because she, too was getting hot down there, but I did not care.</p>
<p> As I sucked on her breasts, as I drank her milk, as I massaged her massive boobs, both of us subconsciously moved closer to one another. I felt myself grinding against her, and could sense her doing the same thing with her body. I was just dry humping her, and yet I felt as if that was the most exhilarating sexual encounter I had ever had.</p>
<p> I broke away, for a bit longer, and looked at her breasts, at her bloodied neck, at her narrow, thin shoulders. Her head was floating close by, and her eyes were looking at me. She seemed distraught, so fraught with something that she could not even put it into words.</p>
<p>"Ah… My nipples… They're so sensitive…" She muttered and let go of me, her hands reaching for her breasts, cupping the orbs of flesh and pushing them up. Her gasps and pants were so lewd, even though they sounded like something out of a horror movie, that I felt as if I could no longer hold myself.</p>
<p>"I want to fuck you." I said, blankly, as I let go of her breasts, feeling a sense of loss as I did so. My hands moved down to my belt, undoing it, feeling my dick painfully rubbing against the fabric.</p>
<p>"I--" The Cryptid thing whispered as she made a step back, and I felt her eyes on my nethers. I just went with it, undoing the button, pulling down the zipper and then pushing the whole pantaloon off of my pelvis. My cock flopped out, fully erect, bigger than it had ever been, throbbing violently as it was let loose. "--You do?"</p>
<p> I felt as if that question of hers needed no answer. My vulgarly pulsing dick, with its foreskin peeled further back than it had ever been peeled, was more than enough indication that I wanted to fuck her. I made a step towards her, and she gulped. Her hands trailed down to her womanhood, and I noticed that its flesh had reddened a bit. On top of that, a sticky, clear liquid had made the inner side of her thighs wet.</p>
<p> Her fingers dug into her pussy lips and she spread them open, giving me a good view of her sopping quim. I did not smell anything appealing, anything that would make me feel as though I had gotten a whiff of that honey pot, and, yet, I think I imagined just how wonderfully warm it was going to be.</p>
<p> My breath was visible in the cold air, and yet I could not care less. I approached her, feeling that great need in myself, and placed my hands on her hips. Her flesh was somewhat coarse, unlike that of her breasts, but I still liked the feeling. Her own arms snaked their way around my body, wrapping about my back. I felt her fingers digging into my coat, and I appreciated the pressure - it was indicative of her own great desire.</p>
<p> Rubbing my member against her womanhood was fascinating. It felt so, so much softer, so much more pleasant and far more welcoming than anything I had experienced before. Her stifled gasps and moans only drove my list higher, and I felt something in my balls. As if something was pulling at them from within my body. I groaned and moved myself, aligning my engorged cockhead with her leaking entrance.</p>
<p> I prodded at it, and it appeared to want to swallow my shaft. It was more than inviting - it was so accommodating I could feel my cock sliding inside of her. She wailed in bliss, and my groaning grew louder, as her folds contracted around my dick, as her slick walls tightened around me and left me feeling as if that was everything I had ever wanted.</p>
<p> It was not the best sex, not because of my partner's skill, or because of my partner's emotion towards me. I think it was the best thing to have ever happened to me, because of my emotions towards my partner. She was so gentle, so timid, and yet she looked in such a manner, she lived in a way that suggested people should have been timid, even scared around her.</p>
<p> And yet all I could feel was an attraction so great I felt as if I was a stapler being pulled on by a massive, industry strength magnet. She stumbled back, and I made steps to follow her movements. I did notice that we were headed for the stack of blankets, but I did not care. I only had eyes for her.</p>
<p> My hands trailed all over her body, exploring her strange physique, while my cock throbbed inside her. The movements from us walking in that strange manner stimulated my member, and I did not feel the overwhelming urge to just start humping her - not as strongly as I had felt it before shoving my dick inside of her, at least.</p>
<p> She pulled me down, and we fell onto the impromptu bed. The covers were cold, but she did not seem to care, and neither did I.</p>
<p> I fucked her, long and hard. I spent hours thrusting into her, I came so many times I lost count, my balls hurt by the end of it, and yet I could not stop. I fucked her, I made love to her, I drank her milk, I played with her breasts, I bred her. By the time it was over, there was such a heavy stench of sex in the air that I could not even breathe right. I was completely spent, drained beyond reasoning, and her form, splayed underneath me, quivered with bliss, all the while my cum trickled out of her pussy.</p>
<p> I visited her many more times.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Take a look at the pieces that inspired this story:<br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/ciircuit1/status/1349252372065886211">HERE</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>